


Symposium

by my1alias, SkreeBat



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), He/Him Pronouns for Aziraphale, He/Him pronouns for Crowley, Holy Water, Multi, Other, Sandalphon Being an Asshole (Good Omens), Soulmarks, Soulmates, True Form Sex, Ze/Zir Pronouns for Beelzebub (Good Omens), other space - Freeform, plato - Freeform, sex with no genitalia, sex without descriptions of genitalia, the fall of an angel, theological discussions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:22:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25183219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/my1alias/pseuds/my1alias, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkreeBat/pseuds/SkreeBat
Summary: After Armageddon't, Aziraphale and Crowley think they're safe, until a situation in Anathema's garden proves them wrong. Can Plato's Symposium on soulmates give them the answers they need? They sure hope so, because it's a matter of life and death...
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 47
Kudos: 44
Collections: Good Omens Mini Bang





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to thank the artist for this work, [Skreebat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkreeBat/pseuds/SkreeBat) ([Tumblr](https://pacific-melody.tumblr.com/)) because they were incredible the whole way through, both with the art and ideas, but with a bit of beta work as well!  
> Huge thank yous also go out to the betas that helped me: [Tarek_Giverofcookies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarek_giverofcookies/pseuds/Tarek_giverofcookies) ([Tumblr](https://akinmytua2.tumblr.com/)) and my husband (no account). They were both extremely patient with me and helped work the story into that you'll read today.
> 
> I would also like to thank the mods for the GO Mini Bang event. This was a lot of fun and I really appreciate all the hard work you've put into this!
> 
> This work is COMPLETE.

_Symposium (sym·po·si·um)_

  * a conference or meeting to discuss a particular subject
  * a collection of essays or papers on a particular subject by a number of contributors
  * a drinking party or convivial discussion, especially as held in ancient Greece after a banquet (and notable as the title of a work by Plato)
  * via Latin from Greek sumposion, from sumpotēs ‘fellow drinker’, from sun- ‘together’ + potēs ‘drinker’



Aziraphale materialized in the garden of a quaint country house. He blinked and took a second look at the building, realizing with a start that it was Jasmine Cottage. His missing demon was standing in front of the entryway, yelling for ‘the witch to reveal herself or pay for it’. Aziraphale frowned and walked towards his friend. “Just what did Anathema do, dear boy, to make you disappear in the middle of our conversation?”

Crowley turned to him then, a wicked smirk on his face. Aziraphale didn’t like the look of it. “There you are, you pathetic excuse for an angel. You can’t die by Hellfire, so it’s time to try Holy Water!” As he spat the last few words, he splashed Aziraphale full in the face with water from a flask he’d had hidden from view.

Aziraphale blinked slowly and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, mopping his face delicately. “Well. Hello to you, too. Where is the real Crowley?”

Not-Crowley sneered. “You don’t recognize your wily, cunning adversary?”

“Yes, well, you’ve certainly gotten the likeness down. Now, as to who you are…” Aziraphale thought quickly. “Obviously not a demon. Excepting Crowley, none of _them_ are immune to Holy Water.”

“That remains to be seen,” smirked not-Crowley.

“Quite,” replied Aziraphale with polite iciness. “Because the tub full of Holy Water wasn’t enough.”

“Obviously not, since he’s still here.” Not-Crowley narrowed his eyes. “We don’t know what kind of trick you pulled, but if you’re still immune to Holy Water, then you haven’t Fallen, somehow. How did you survive the Hellfire?”

“It’s ineffable.” Aziraphale smugly twitched at his waistcoat and changed the subject back to the identity of the being in front of him. “You’re an angel. Which angel would be willing to don the guise of a demon…? Which angel is so full of hate for me that he would attempt to destroy me?”

“The fact that the answer doesn’t come directly to mind is telling,” sneered not-Crowley. “Now where is your boyfriend in the dark glasses?”

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow and ignored the question. “I wouldn’t think that Uriel would harbour this much hatred. Michael is much cooler under this sort of pressure. Sandalphon, perhaps?”

Crowley’s image melted away to reveal the archangel. “Well done, Principality. If I should still call you that.”

“I see no reason why you should stop referring to me by my title.” Aziraphale gave a mock bow. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a dear friend I would like to greet.” He moved to push past Sandalphon to get to the door.

“Oh no, I don’t think so.” Sandalphon grinned malevolently and planted his body in Aziraphale’s way. “You’ve been a very naughty angel.”

Aziraphale regarded him coolly. “If God has had anything to say on the matter, I would think it would be quite clear if I had Fallen. Since you so considerately pointed out that I have not, I think we are done here. Now kindly remove yourself from my way.”

“Or what? You’ll fight me?” Sandalphon grinned widely, showing off his golden teeth. “Come on, then!”

“Oi!” came a new voice from the doorway. “You leave Aziraphale alone!”

Aziraphale glanced over Sandalphon’s shoulder to see Crowley, brandishing a cast iron frying pan, and Anathema, holding a fire poker like a sword.

“Lovely to see you, dear girl,” said Aziraphale calmly, removing his coat. He looked around for a safe place to put it, spotted the metal bench not too far from his position, and draped it over the back. “You might want to brace yourself.”

“I know perfectly well how to hold a sword-” sputtered Anathema.

Crowley nudged her. “I think he means that he’s about to use some angelic power. I would do as he says.”

Aziraphale rolled up his sleeves to the elbow, cracked his neck, flexed his shoulders, and manifested his wings in the material plane. He drew his sword out of the aether1 and gave it a swing, loosening up his wrist. His wings lifted into attack mode as he began to glow, mindful of the human and demon within range. “I will only give you this one warning. Leave my friends alone and I will not smite you into tiny pieces.”

Sandalphon laughed cruelly. “A demon can’t be your friend. He’s not capable of being loyal or trustworthy. And what makes you think you can smite me? You’re a mere Principality!”

“It doesn’t particularly matter what rank I am. You are threatening my friends. I will defend them.” Aziraphale’s glow intensified, making Anathema squint as she tried to keep her eyes on the two angels in her yard.

“It’s only too bad that you’re not between me and them,” mocked Sandalphon. “You won’t be fast enough to prevent me from doing _this_!” He tossed the remaining contents of his flask directly at the demon.

Several things happened at once.

Anathema threw herself in between the liquid and Crowley.

Crowley jumped back and tripped, landing on his ass.

Aziraphale shouted and launched himself towards Sandalphon, who side-stepped towards the gate.

“I thought the demon was immune to Holy Water? Well, well, well,” sneered the Archangel. “Isn’t that interesting.” With those last words, he ascended.

Aziraphale banished his sword with a thought and hurried over to help Crowley to his feet. “Are you alright? Did any get on you?” he asked anxiously. He waved a hand over Anathema and the water evaporated.

Crowley groaned, both hands rubbing his back. “You’d know if even a droplet had landed on me. You saw Ligur in my flat.”

“Yes. Quite.” Aziraphale bent and grabbed the fallen frying pan, returning it to Anathema. “Thank you, dear girl, for your quick thinking,” he said quietly. “You have my eternal gratitude.”

“Yeah, I owe you one,” muttered Crowley.

Anathema blinked. “What does it mean, to have a favour from a demon?” she teased. “Will I have to watch my phrasing, like with an evil genie?”

“Wha-? Tha-! Ngk!” exclaimed Crowley, his face flushing with indignation before it relaxed into a slight smile. “Well played, book girl.”

“Tea?” she asked, gesturing inside. “I think we could all use it.”

“I would be very grateful for a cup, dear girl,” agreed Aziraphale.

* * *

1Prompting a confused storage person at the International Express [ return to text ]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can we talk about how amazing the header by Skreebat is?? Because the details, the lighting, the shadowing...they're all incredible! And they let me lean heavily into fun little nods, like the book page to the left - that's from Preface to Plato, chapter 6, because Plato is relevant to this story and whaat, this is so cool! I just love everything about it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This gets a little theological. I tried to keep it from getting bogged down. I hope I succeeded.

Once settled with their mugs, Anathema explained that she had been pulled away from her reading by not-Crowley yelling at her from her garden. She had been surprised, not just by the things he was saying, but by the lack of forceful entry. He hadn’t even knocked on the door. Then she had noticed that he couldn’t get past the protective horseshoe. She grinned at Crowley. “You never have trouble getting into my house because _you_ don’t have ill-intent towards its inhabitants.”

“‘M a demon, not a monster,” grumbled Crowley into his mug.

“So that’s when I called you. And sure enough, the person outside didn’t even touch a phone when you answered. I said it was an emergency, and poof, you were here with me.” Anathema finished her accounting of the afternoon.

Aziraphale nodded enthusiastically. “I couldn’t follow him through the phone line, because by the time I had realized what had happened, you had hung up. So I, for the lack of a better word for it, teleported close to his presence. I appeared in the garden because I thought it might be prudent to get a lay of the land, so-to-speak, rather than appearing right beside him, in case he had been summoned in a not-so-pleasant fashion. Once I recognized your house, Anathema dear, I knew he was safe.”

“Now we just have to deal with another of your co-workers coming back,” sighed Crowley. “I had hoped to get at least a few decades of peace.”

“ _Ex_ -co-workers,” emphasized Aziraphale with a pout and a sniff. “I never liked Sandalphon. He was disturbing in his glee towards killing.”

“Oh?” queried Anathema, one eyebrow raised.

Aziraphale coughed delicately. “Have you heard of Sodom and Gomorrah?” He nodded solemnly as her second eyebrow joined the first. “He was given a commendation for that.”

Crowley scowled. “What a mess that was. Hell was backed up for a century because everyone was sent straight down there, whether they deserved it or not. Then the ones that didn’t had to be sent upstairs, and that was a whole other thing.” He shuddered. “Dealing with Dagon during that time was the last thing anyone wanted to do.”

“That sounds… err… unpleasant?” offered Anathema. “So that other angel is not the good sort.”

“I guess it depends on your definition of _good_ ,” replied Aziraphale thoughtfully. “By Human ethical standards, no, he is very much not good. But by Angelic standards, he does the Will of the Lord and therefore he is Good.”

Crowley rolled his eyes so hard that he almost fell out of his chair. “Nobody has spoken to Her in millenia. The _Will of the Lord_ ,” he continued mockingly, “sounds an awful lot like the Will of Gabriel and the others in charge. And we all know what _they_ want,” he added scathingly.

“To... kill you?” suggested Anathema hesitantly.

“No!” Crowley shot up in his seat. “Well, yes.” He gave an aborted shrug and settled back into his slouched position. “That’s incidental. No, what the ones in charge want is the War.”

“Ah,” said Anathema. “Right.” She pressed a finger to her chin thoughtfully. “So you’re telling me that the angels in charge-”

“And demons,” interjected Aziraphale.

“The angels and demons in charge of Heaven and Hell,” conceded Anathema with an incline of her head. “All that they want to do is start, or re-start, Armageddon and fight each other? That’s their entire goal over the course of human history?”

Aziraphale and Crowley exchanged glances.

“So then, what was your job here? Why did they let you stay on Earth after the beginning?” she asked, curious despite herself. “Did securing souls for your respective Head Offices help with the War effort in some way?”

“Who knows?” Crowley shrugged. “I stayed because I was good at my job.”

“I wasn’t consulted on policy decisions. I was told to help this person or that one, and in so doing, save their souls.” Aziraphale gave her a small smile. “Also, nobody else wanted the job. And I did. Humans are so fascinating, so creative, so interesting!”

Anathema made a face. “I guess that’s a compliment.”

“Not to be condescending, dear,” Aziraphale reassured her with a pat on her hand.

"Also, it wasn't part of _The Great Plan_ that the War could happen until the Anti-Christ was born," added Crowley, voice mocking.

“I just have one question. Why are the angels trying to kill you both, and how will that help them re-start Armageddon?” Anathema grimaced. “Make that two questions.”

Crowley lazily rolled his head back and stuck one finger up. “Because we succeeded in stopping it last time.” He stuck up the second finger. “Because they think that we had anything to do with stopping it last time.”

Aziraphale chuckled. “It was definitely all Adam. Although you did buy him a little time to think about things, dearest.”

“ _Mostly_ Adam,” Anathema disagreed. “If Newt hadn’t been there, nuclear Armageddon would definitely have happened, no matter what Adam and his friends did to the Horsemen.”

“Okay, fine, fine, everyone did their thing and stopped the end of the world,” Crowley brushed away the details with a flop of his hand. “Doesn’t matter. Heaven and Hell are looking for someone to blame, and humans are beneath their notice, so they blame us. Think we _got to Adam_ somehow.”

“As if.” Aziraphale sniffed. “The only thing we did right was leave him alone to be raised by loving parents.”

“And we didn’t even do that on purpose!” Crowley shuddered. “Warlock was adorable, but I, for one, am relieved that he was not the Antichrist. He was a spoiled little brat. I shudder to think how Adam would have turned out as a Dowling.”

“Well, it’s all Nature versus Nurture, isn’t it?” asked Anathema, curiously. Her tea cup was perilously close to tipping onto the floor, completely forgotten. “So if Adam had been raised by the Dowlings, he would have been a lot closer to his demon-Nature, right? Rather than his human-Nature that the Youngs inspired.”

Crowley wiggled his hand. “Ehhh…”

“That’s close enough. There are other factors at play, of course.” Aziraphale sipped at his tea and miraculously caught Anathema’s cup just before the tea dripped out, placing it back on the table in front of her. Another tiny miracle warmed it. “We don’t pretend to know everything about human nature.”

“Huh.” Anathema sat in silence for a moment. She spotted her tea and blinked in surprise. She took a cautious sip and smiled. “I feel like we’re talking in circles a bit. What was the point we were trying to get at?”

“Dolphins!” chorused Aziraphale and Crowley before chuckling at each other.

“I’m missing something.” She smiled wryly.

“Don’t worry about it, dear.” Aziraphale patted her hand. “We were trying to figure out how to elude the clutches of Heaven and Hell this time.”

“What happened last time?” Anathema asked, curious.

“Last time, Agnes helped us. Prophecy 5004, I believe.” Aziraphale nodded solemnly at Anathema, who mentally pulled the prophecy up in her mind.

“My ancestors thought that might have something to do with other fires mentioned in previous prophecies. They really were all over the place, you know.”

Aziraphale nodded. “The book was quite the puzzle to untangle. Took me all night to find Adam Young’s phone number.”

“You found his _phone number_?” squeaked Anathema.

“Yes, the number of the Beast,” Aziraphale said impatiently, as if he hadn’t dismissed it as being too obvious himself. “But that’s not important. What _is_ important, is that Agnes can’t help us now.”

Anathema bit her lip and shifted uneasily.

Crowley sat up straight. “What is it, book girl?” He took off his sunglasses to peer at her intently. “There are waves of guilt teeming off of you.”

“Oh, well, it might not even matter.” Anathema swallowed hard. “I wanted to be free.”

“ _What_ did you _do_?” Crowley stared at her in undisguised amazement.

She whispered in the smallest voice possible, “I burned the continued works of Agnes Nutter.”

Aziraphale leapt to his feet and started to pace. He paused in front of her, opening and closing his mouth several times, before continuing his frantic pacing. A few squeaks and groans escaped him as he gesticulated frantically. Finally, he sank back into his seat with a whimper and sent an imploring glance at Crowley.

“He means to say…” Crowley was interrupted by Aziraphale jumping onto his feet again and leaving the room. They heard the front door slam shut.

Anathema gulped. “I guess I didn’t really think things through when I burned the manuscript, did I?”

Heaving a sigh, Crowley said, “There’s no guarantee that Agnes would have had anything useful to help us in those pages anyways. Chances are slim. I have to believe that.” He grimaced. “No, I think Aziraphale is more offended that you didn’t think to offer them to him rather than burn them. He’ll be back. Best not mention them again.”

“To be perfectly honest, he didn’t even cross my mind. We burned them the Sunday after the Apoca-wasn’t, and I haven’t thought of them since.” Anathema sighed. “Ok, so I think I understand how you managed to escape punishment last time, and why you can’t do it again, given Sandalphon splashed Aziraphale with Holy Water today.”

Crowley inclined his head in acknowledgement, impressed by how quickly she had figured it out.

“Is there any way that you could _meld_ instead of _switch_?” Anathema wondered, and then shook her head. “That’s a silly idea. Forget I said it.”

“Wait wait wait wait, go back.” Crowley grabbed her by the shoulders. “What do you mean by meld?”

“I don’t know, I was just spitballing!” Anathema hunched in on herself.

Crowley ignored her, letting go and dashing to the door. “Hey Angel, get back in here! Book girl has an idea.”

Aziraphale returned, looking windswept1. Anathema declined to comment on it, afraid of drawing his ire.

“Melding?” Aziraphale mused, after hearing the suggestion. “Like half of me in me and half in Crowley?”

“Would that be sustainable?” asked Anathema. “It’s not like matter and anti-matter?”

“We’re not polar opposites,” Crowley said scornfully. “Our essences can touch without an explosion.”

“Can they, though?” asked Aziraphale musingly. “Anathema dear, I have seen humans that have melded. Finish each other’s thoughts with ease, move around each other as if in orbit, that sort of thing.” He stared off into space.

Anathema raised an eyebrow. “Was there a question in there and I missed it?”

“Do their auras blend together?” Crowley asked, propping his chin on a fist. “How do these humans do that?”

She thought for a moment. “I _have_ seen couples, and even close friends, who act like that. The only time I have ever seen auras interchange pieces of themselves, however, is after intense, er, physical intimacy?”

“Every time?” Crowley scoffed. “I find that hard to believe.”

“No, only after a deeply intimate exchange between, well, essentially soulmates.” Anathema bit her lip. “They have to be compatible on every possible level.”

“Psh.” Crowley deflated. “That’s highly improbable.”

“How long does it last?” Aziraphale regarded her with burning intensity.

Anathema swallowed hard. “I… I’m not sure. I've only seen it happen once or twice.”

“Angel…?” Crowley gaped at him. “You’re not suggesting…?”

“Anathema dear, you’ve been most helpful. Please let us know if you think of anything else. Now, if you’ll be so kind as to call Crowley’s mobile? Thank you.” Aziraphale led Crowley through the phone network and back out into his bookshop.

He started pacing, muttering to himself, before dashing off to a corner of the bookshop, almost knocking over a stack of books, and returning with an old scroll. He laid it flat on his desk and immediately started examining it, perching his glasses on the end of his nose.

“Alright, now I know you’re distracted,” said Crowley, perching on the edge of the desk. “You didn’t even put gloves on before touching that, what, five hundred year old parchment?”

Aziraphale gave a tiny wave and gloves appeared on his hands. “Twenty four,” he murmured, distantly.

“Twenty four hundred years old!?” Crowley choked. “Who knew!” He got up and fell onto the couch, picking up his mobile. “Let me know when you’re ready to actually discuss anything, or, you know, want my input.”

“Thank you, dearest,” Aziraphale mumbled, his nose an inch from the parchment.

Crowley rolled his eyes. “Not sure what even a twenty four hundred year old parchment could tell you about saving us from Heaven and Hell, but you do you,” he muttered under his breath.

* * *

1 As if he had been flying, which was in fact the case. [ return to text ]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can we talk about the header?? I got to go through references for tea cups and pick out fancy ones. It was a lot of fun. We decided that since Anathema is renting Jasmine cottage, that the tea set wouldn't necessarily match. So I got to pick out a variety. The dark w/ gold is Crowley's cup, the blue is Aziraphale's, and the white w/ gold is Anathema's.
> 
> I am in awe of [Skreebat's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkreeBat/pseuds/SkreeBat) ([Tumblr](https://pacific-melody.tumblr.com/)) work. She is incredible!


	3. Chapter 3

Crowley squinted open his eyes and blinked in the brightness of the morning light streaming over his face. “Nguh.” He smacked his lips, registering his dry mouth. “-’ngel? How long have I been asleep?” He yawned and stretched, his shirt slipping up his torso. He lightly scratched over the bare skin revealed, rasping over coarse red hair and muscle. “Angel?” He cracked open one eye to look over at the desk. No Aziraphale.

A muffled squeak followed by a crash came from the entrance to the back room. Crowley turned his head to see that Aziraphale had dropped a mug and was staring at him, mouth agape.

"Everything okay, Angel?" Crowley heaved himself upright, stretching again with his arms over his head.

"Tickety-boo," replied Aziraphale, eyes wide and trained on the sliver of skin peeking out between the demon’s shirt and pants. He distractedly waved a hand and his smashed mug rematerialized on his desk.

"How long was I asleep?" Crowley prompted.

"A couple days," Aziraphale swallowed hard and blinked, giving himself a shake. “I think I found our solution. We need to talk.”

“Lay it on me.”

“That’s what he said,” replied Aziraphale automatically.

“Did… Angel, did you just make a dirty joke?” Crowley asked, a look of wonder and amusement on his face1.

“Yes, yes, can we get on with it?” Aziraphale flapped a hand at him, flustered.

“Alright.” Crowley flopped back down onto the couch, still displaying open amusement. “So tell me about this twenty four hundred year old parchment.”

“It’s by Plato,” started Aziraphale, and Crowley nodded in understanding. “It was one of the few scrolls I was able to save from the Library before it burned. It is, in fact, the original, and penned by Plato himself!” He gave a little wiggle of pleasure.

“Of course. Only first editions, signed if possible, for you,” teased Crowley. “Which treatise is it? Forms? Republic?”

Aziraphale gave the demon a fond glance. “Only you would know Plato’s works off the top of your head like that.” He tapped the parchment gently. “No, this is his Symposium2.”

“The theatre piece? On… oh.” Crowley sat up straight3. “Oooh! I see where you’re going with this.”

“On soulmates, yes. Granted, most of it is only theory and myth. But I think the essence of the soulmate is quite sound. ‘Once found, the soulmates will feel joined and exist with each other in unison, knowing no greater joy. For home is not a place, but a feeling.’” Aziraphale rubbed his hands on his thighs, anxious despite himself. “And most importantly, ‘They were stronger together as one than they could ever be apart.’”

Crowley nodded slowly. “Do you think it’s possible that we...that we’re soulmates?”

“Dearest, I can’t think of anyone else better suited for me than you. I can’t imagine my world without you in it. You are my heart.” The words spilled from Aziraphale’s lips unbidden.

Crowley gaped at him.

“Surely you must have known how I feel about you, at least in part?” Aziraphale pleaded nervously. He got up and started pacing. “I have been trying to make up for how poorly I treated you before Armageddon in the months since. I was truly horrible to you, denying my feelings, and making both of us miserable in the process.”

“Yeah, I mean… I _hoped_ that you felt…” Crowley broke off with a groan, hands rubbing over his face and stretching it grotesquely. “Christ, Aziraphale, you know how I feel about you.”

Aziraphale picked at the chain of his pocket watch, averting his eyes. “I know you’re fond of me.”

“Fond? Ffffond???” Crowley grimaced. “That word barely scratches the surface of the depth of my love for you.”

Aziraphale paused in his pacing. “You love me?” he asked shyly. “All of me?”

“No, not your pinky finger,” said Crowley scornfully. “Yes, all of you!”

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale said softly. He sank to his knees in front of the demon. “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone or anything.”

Crowley’s eyebrows rose. His eyes flicked upwards and back at his love, panicked. “Angels have fallen for less. Aziraphale, you don’t know what you’re saying!”

“There are different kinds of love. The Love I have for Her is a state of being. I am not abandoning it or turning away from it. The love I feel for you has blossomed from a small seed and has overgrown my heart and overcome all obstacles that my mind has conjured for it. They are incomparable. I feel no urge to-” Aziraphale cut himself off, blushing.

Overwhelmed, Crowley rested his hands on the angel’s head, feeling the softness of his curls. “Urge to what?” he whispered.

Aziraphale bumped his head into the contact like a kitten demanding petting. “I feel no urge to take Her to bed and make love to Her for days on end.”

“Ngk!” Eyes wide, Crowley tightened his fingers involuntarily, drawing a soft moan from the being knelt in front of him. He relaxed them slightly, trying to keep his head. “You want…? Angel!” he gasped. “I didn’t think angels thought such things.”

“Do demons?” asked Aziraphale coyly. “Do you?”

Crowley shrugged. “Every demon is different. Some think about lust all the time, others don’t.” He swallowed, finally letting his tongue say what had been bottled up for millenia. “I have wanted you, wanted to be with you, since the moment I met you. No other being in Heaven, Hell, or on Earth has ever had the appeal of you.”

“My dear...” said Aziraphale, overcome with emotion as he turned his head to press a kiss to Crowley’s palm. “Darling…” a kiss to his wrist, “Dearest…” a kiss to the inside of his elbow over his jacket, “My love…” He leaned forwards, resting his hands on the demon’s knees and delivering a final kiss to where his shoulder met his neck. “My only.”

Crowley gave a shudder of pleasure and melted boneless into the couch with a groan. “You said…” He swallowed thickly. “You said something about home being a feeling? I don’t agree. Home is a person, and that is you, for me.”

“Oh Crowley!” Aziraphale leaned further into his space and lightly pressed their mouths together. Finally, after so long, they could have this. Feeling dizzy with want, they broke apart with a gasp.

“This cannot be comfortable for you,” said Crowley, indicating Aziraphale’s position half-kneeling, half-lying on top of him. “Here.” He pulled him up onto the couch and onto his lap. He looked up at the usually shorter man with a mischievous grin. “Hello up there.”

“Stop that.” Aziraphale blushed and looked away.

“Make me.” Playful. Demanding.

Aziraphale responded to that tone with a whimper as he bent and brushed their lips together again.

Crowley met him halfway, his fingers delving into blond curls, nails scratching at the scalp. “Oh fuck, yes,” he panted, desperately mouthing along the jaw bone in front of him before coming back to soft and plush lips. “I’m yours, Angel. Make me yours.”

“As you are mine,” gasped Aziraphale, holding tight to Crowley’s shoulders. “There’s no-one else I’d rather be with for the rest of my life. Even if this doesn’t work-”

“Shut up, Angel. It’ll work.” Crowley pulled back to look him in the eyes, pupils blown wide. “It has to. If I lose you just when I finally get you…”

Aziraphale lightly traced one of Crowley’s cheekbones with a thumb. “I don’t want to be a modern day Romeo and Juliet.”

Crowley grimaced. “Definitely prefer the funny ones. Let’s be Beatrice and Benedick.”

“I’d rather be Aziraphale and Crowley.” Aziraphale bent to suck the demon’s earlobe into his mouth.

“Yes, okay, let’s do that then,” gasped Crowley, clenching his fingers and arching his back underneath the angel. “Want to touch you. Want to find all the spots that make you moan.”

Aziraphale released the lobe with a wet pop. “I’ve already found some of yours,” he whispered, making Crowley shudder, before kissing the snake tattoo.

A jolt of something shot through Crowley’s spine at the contact. “Fuck, Angel, do that again!” His fingers started fumbling with the buttons of Aziraphale’s waistcoat, clumsy in his need to feel more skin against his.

“Takes too much time,” mumbled Aziraphale. He snapped his fingers, and Crowley found himself with a lapful of naked angel, both their clothes folded neatly on the desk.

“Angel!” squeaked Crowley, his hands automatically going to the other’s hips. Very naked hips. All that soft skin within reach and on display… His fingers tightened convulsively, dimpling Aziraphale’s curves. “Warn me next time!”

“Oh good. I’m glad there will be a next time.” Aziraphale smirked.

Crowley’s splutters were cut off as his mouth was claimed once more. He groaned as their tongues danced together. “‘Ziraphale…” he mumbled, his hands loosening and lightly stroking over the skin, soothing any hurts. “‘Ziraphale…?” He felt hands in his hair and his head was tugged back abruptly, exposing his throat. “Angel!” he gasped.

“Yes, my love?” asked Aziraphale, licking and sucking tiny marks onto the unblemished skin of his demon. He bit down hard where shoulder met neck, drawing a keening cry from his lover. “Good?”

“Yesssss, G-, Sa-, Somebody!”

“Aziraphale.” The angel prompted impishly.

“What?”

“You want to scream a name, scream mine.”

“You’re a bastard, you know that, right?”

“Just enough of one to be worth knowing.”

“Maybe a bit more than that.”

“Flatterer.” Aziraphale bent to lick over more of the exposed skin of Crowley’s chest, tracing over muscle and bone.

“Aziraphale,” began Crowley.

“Already? I’m barely touching you.”

“Stop it. I’m serious.”

Concerned, Aziraphale sat up, perching on Crowley’s knees. “Everything alright, dearest?”

“Yes, yes. Just…” Crowley ran a hand through his short hair, messing it up further. “How do you want to do this? How far do you want to take this?”

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. “I thought the whole point was to take it all the way. Do you not want to?”

“Yes, but,” Crowley gestured at their feature-less bodies. “All the way in what way? We’re not exactly sporting any equipment at the moment. So which way do you want to do this?”

“Hmmm,” mused Aziraphale, examining their bodies. Both of them were wearing their base corporations; no genitalia, no belly button, and no nipples. “I’ve never had the chance to be like this with another. Through personal exploration, I’ve found that the erogenous zones have heightened reactions when there’s no genitalia, and I would love to explore that with you.”

“Personal exploration?” Crowley choked. “Angel, are you telling me you’ve masturbated? Like this?”

“I’ve _masturbated_ , as you crudely put it, in all my possible forms,” said Aziraphale primly. “Haven’t you?”

Crowley goggled at him, mouth agape. “I… _All_ possible forms?”

“Another time, perhaps, dearest.” Aziraphale walked his fingers up Crowley’s chest, eyebrow quirked up saucily. “Right now, I want to discover _your_ body.” He pressed a finger delicately over a growing bruise at his neck. “I think we can safely say that this is one spot I should focus my attentions.”

Arching his back, Crowley whimpered.

“Yes, that’s the ticket,” whispered Aziraphale, almost as if to himself. He urged Crowley to lie back on the suddenly much wider couch, plastered his body against his lover’s, legs entwined, and latched on Crowley’s shoulder again. He licked and bit across it before dropping down to lavish his attentions on a clavicle and dipping into the hollow of his throat.

Crowley squirmed and gasped underneath Aziraphale’s weight, his eyes staring unseeing overhead at the ceiling as supernovas exploded in his brain4. “Holy-! Aziraphale!”

Aziraphale hummed happily and kissed his way down to Crowley’s hip bone, lining it with purpling bruises that bloomed under his attentive guidance. “Does it feel more intense this way?” he asked, giving Crowley a chance to breathe5 before moving to the left hip.

Crowley whined and grabbed ineffectually at Aziraphale’s head, at first attempting to push him away from his sensitive skin, but ending up pulling him closer to feel more of the exquisite pleasure. “’Ziraphale!” he whimpered, barely making a sound. His toes curled in the fabric of the quilt on the couch, unable to move more than that.

“Just let the pleasure wash over you,” murmured Aziraphale, blowing a light stream of air over the spit-slick skin. “Is there any place in particular you’d like me to attend to? Somewhere… extra sensitive?”

Crowley groaned, throwing his head back. “You sure you’re not the tempter? Consider me tempted.”

“Really, dearest?” Aziraphale gave a little wiggle of happiness. “I’m not even trying yet!”

“Not trying? Fuck, Angel. Why didn’t I get you to cover my lust assignments?” Crowley teased.

Aziraphale flipped Crowley over in a smooth show of strength. “Probably because you were consumed by jealousy over a human touching me so… intimately.” Aziraphale punctuated his words with biting kisses over the demon’s upper thighs and bum. “An angel wouldn’t get jealous about sharing their lover,” he added.

“Ah, now _that_ I don’t believe,” gasped Crowley. “I’ll just go… and… - _fuck_ , Aziraphale- and… I’ll find some guy in a bar and let him suck me off in an alley behind-”

Aziraphale smacked his hand down on Crowley’s ass, leaving a stinging red handprint behind. His jaw dropped open in shock. “Oh dear, Crowley darling, I didn’t mean to…”

“Fuck, Angel! If that’s the reaction I’ll get if I tease you from now on, I should do it more often.”

“Yeah? You liked that?” Aziraphale asked, curious. He slapped the other side, a matching handprint to the almost faded one.

“Yes, well, occasionally!” Crowley yelped. “Can we go back to the bringing me pleasure part? I’ll ignore the lie about you willing to share me.”

“Rather.” Aziraphale walked his fingers up Crowley’s spine to the point where his wings would attach and pressed down gently, coaxing them out of the _other_ space. Miraculously, the back room of Azirpahale’s bookshop fit the enormous wingspan of the demon’s inky black wings. “Gorgeous,” he breathed, and then buried his face in the downy fluff at the base of the wings.

“Ahhhhhh!” cried Crowley, his wingtips fluttering as he tensed with pleasure.

“Good ‘ahh’ or bad ‘ahh’?” asked Aziraphale, his voice muffled by feathers.

“Good, good, very good!” squeaked Crowley.

“Oh good,” purred Aziraphale happily. His fingers traced down the large bones that formed the arch at the top of the wings, down to where they joined the demon’s back, and gripped them hard.

“Oh fuck, Aziraphale,” Crowley gasped.

“We’re getting closer to our true selves. We’ll need to travel into the _other_ space to merge our essences.” Aziraphale pressed his body against his lover’s, wings manifesting and laying white against black. “Are you ready?”

"Ready as I'll ever be." Crowley writhed in place. "You're sure you want me? You still want me after seeing me like this, scaley feet and all, all of me?"

"I find your pinky finger undesirable. Total deal breaker."

"Only you would make a joke like that at a time like this," groaned Crowley. "Remind me, why do I love you?"

"Because I'm charming, intelligent, and a fucking delight," replied Aziraphale, eyes twinkling.

"Ooooh yeah, talk dirty to me."

Aziraphale gripped Crowley's wing joints harder. "Ready, three, two, one…"

* * *

1You know the one. He’d given it many times over the years since on the Wall. [ return to text ]

2You can read about Symposium [here](https://elligold.com/the-myth-of-soulmates/) [ return to text ]

3Well, as straight as his back could get. [ return to text ]

4Metaphorically speaking, of course. [ return to text ]

5Not that he needed it. [ return to text ]


	4. Chapter 4

Aziraphale had only visited the _other_ space a few times during his sojourn on Earth.

The first time had been after Eden1. After God had talked to him the very last time. After his first meeting with Crowley. Crawly, then. After he had given his sword to the first humans. At that point, the _other_ space had been very similar to the Garden. Ever-reaching, ever-green, ever-beautiful. He could have spent ages discovering all its secrets, but although time passed differently there than in the real world, time _did_ still pass in the real world and he was needed to watch over the humans. So he, heart-sick with worry and loneliness, had left the beauty of the _other_ space and re-entered the real world.

The second time had been after the Ark2. After Noah and his sons had helped all the animals onto the boat. He had seen Crowley again. Crowley, who had pointed out that innocent children would be killed in the flood. Aziraphale had known that, of course. But Heaven’s orders were crystal clear. He was not to help any of the humans, not one, except for Noah’s family. When that one solitary family was secure in the boat, Aziraphale had choked back his tears and disappeared to the _other_ space. He would be able to pass many centuries there during the 40 days of rain and the multitude more of the lessening of the flood waters. This time, the _other_ space was an island. Quite a large one, to be sure, but it was surrounded by miles of water. Aziraphale felt like he was being punished for his inaction, despite his orders.

The third time was his last. Humankind had populated the Earth and there was a lot to do for an angel of the Lord. Aziraphale felt guilty for taking too much time in the safe space that the _other_ space presented. And he was a bit traumatized by the last time. This time had been after the smiting of Sodom and Gomorrah3. Sandalphon had come down and destroyed every single person and building in those two cities, and for what? Because the people were having fun, enjoying good food, partaking in the joys of the flesh… Sure, there were murderers and rapists and other such awful people, but what city didn’t have those? It didn’t mean that the entire population needed to be wiped out. Aziraphale had been ordered not to interfere; had in fact been ordered back to Heaven after the destruction. But he, after having seen the gleeful delight on Sandalphon’s face, didn’t feel up to going up there, and so he had requested a leave of absence and had disappeared into the _other_ space again. The space was mountainous, not unlike Switzerland, which he would recognize in the future, and glorious. He had spent most of the time sitting on the very top of a mountain, meditating as he gazed at the view. How could he reconcile being the same sort of angel as Sandalphon, who delighted in the deaths of thousands? As Gabriel and the rest, when they ordered him to do nothing? He didn’t have any answers by the time he left, but he felt more at peace with his place as the protector of humanity. He would just have to do better in the future.

Needless to say, he hadn’t visited the _other_ space in a while, and certainly never with another4.

Crowley, on the other hand, had only been to the _other_ space once, after 1862. When his flat didn’t feel safe after Aziraphale had turned down giving him Holy Water. Although ‘turned down’ was a mild way of phrasing it… When he had been there, the space was fashioned fairly small. About the dimensions of a decent-sized bedroom. And there had been the softest, most comfortable bed, with the most decadently soft sheets and fluffiest pillows. Crowley had slept in peace.

When they travelled together, slipping into the _other_ space, Crowley had fully expected to see the bed again. They were, after all, in need of a horizontal space, he thought.

The _other_ space seemed to have _other_ ideas.

They were hovering, without the use of their wings, in mid-space. Fluffy clouds were all around them. The general atmosphere was warm, and a pink-red-orange glow permeated the air, almost like a permanent sunrise.

“Well. This is pleasant,” beamed Aziraphale. Wings spread wide, he sat on a cloud like it was a chair and patted the space next to him. “Shall we continue, my love?”

Crowley sank to his knees in front of the angel, feeling slightly strange at the lack of ground underneath him. “I am going to worship your body,” he whispered, lifting a leg by an ankle. He nuzzled into the bottom of his foot and pressed a kiss into the arch. “Every. Last. Inch.” He punctuated his sentence with kisses over the top of the foot and ended with sucking the angel’s big toe into his mouth, tongue snaking around the digit. He released it with a pop, and kissed the delicate ankle bone, stroking the lightly haired and strongly muscled calf with a thumb. “You are so strong. So beautiful. And all _mine_ .”

“Yes, I’m yours,” replied Aziraphale quietly. “But I’m soft, not strong.”

“Who is the one worshipping here, Angel?” Crowley looked up with a frown. “Who says you can’t be both? Your legs are strong. I can feel the muscle twitching under my fingers.” He worked his hands up to Aziraphale’s thighs, digging his fingers into the meat at the back. “Your skin is soft to the touch. I could touch you for days and never get bored.” He kissed the inside of the knee. “And you are a delight to grab.” He slid his hands further up, grasping the thickness of his buttocks and groaning with pleasure. Crowley used his purchase to drag Aziraphale closer, nuzzling into his pubic bone. “I would never call you soft and mean it in a bad way.”

“Ah,” said Aziraphale with a whimper. “Carry on then.”

Crowley mouthed over the pubic bone, drawing gasping cries and groans from the angel. “You should see what I can do with a penis or clitoris.” He winked at Aziraphale.

“Another time.” Aziraphale moaned. “We’ll have plenty of time to explore every sort of pleasure later.”

“Hedonistic thing,” murmured Crowley affectionately. His hands left the back and came around to ghost over the front, smoothing down the trail of hair from where the belly button would be to the pubic bone. He let his fingers run through the chest hair. “You’d be called a ‘bear’ in certain circles, Angel. I love this feeling on you.”

“Crowley. Dearest. I live in Soho. I know all the terms. I’ve been called everything under the sss-un,” Aziraphale gasped as Crowley bit down on a hip.

“Of course you’d know,” said the demon, fondly. “Did you partake?”

“Sometimes,” Aziraphale admitted, running his hands through gorgeous red hair. “Does it bother you?”

“Nah, just curious about your level of familiarity with reaching pleasure with others.” Crowley rose to his feet and drew the angel up with him, bodies pressing together tightly. “Fly with me?”

“Oh, I thought you’d never ask, dearest,” breathed Aziraphale.

As one, they beat their wings, soaring up through the endless sky. Playfully, Aziraphale slipped from Crowley’s arms, ducking away and leading the demon on a chase around the clouds.

It was an age-old mating dance. You’ve seen it in birds, darting this way and that, swooping and diving, catching a breeze and soaring up high. At first, Aziraphale kept his distance, clouds in between the two as they flitted through the air. Soon though, their game of tag became a _pas de deux_ as they swirled around each other, caught in a dance of love. It ended when Crowley tackled him onto his back in another cloud. Chests heaving with exertion, although neither needed to breathe, they gazed into each other’s eyes.

“Are you ready to come?” asked Crowley mischievously.

“You’re awfully confident for someone who’s never explored their body in this form.”

Crowley tipped his head in acknowledgment. “But I _do_ know you. You like to have something in your mouth-” He slipped three fingers into Aziraphale’s mouth, pressing down on his tongue. “-something to fill you up. You like it when I grab you _here_ -” Crowley slid the angel’s legs around his hips, pressing their pelvises together and gripping at one buttock with his free hand. “-so tight that you can feel the bruises forming under my fingertips, knowing that I’m marking you as mine. And I’m pretty sure you like to feel my tongue and teeth on your collarbone and shoulder.” He thrust his hips forwards, in mimicry of how he’d thrust inside his angel if they were wearing human genitalia, and latched onto the soft skin of Aziraphale’s shoulder.

Aziraphale’s fingers scratched over Crowley’s back, short polished nails catching on feathers and wing bones as he keened in ecstasy.

The sky changed around them as they found pleasure in each other, clouds vanishing while nebulae and stars blazed around them. They clung to each other as their edges blurred and their true forms exploded out of their corporations, larger and more exquisite than can be comprehended by human minds5.

Aziraphale, a mass of wings, eyes, blues, creams, and purples, blinked multiple times and stretched his edges outwards from his centre. Wrapped around him, Crowley’s dark black and red serpentine form shone bright, as if diamonds were encrusted along his body like scales.

Crowley squeezed lightly, and Aziraphale shuddered with joy, sending out sparks and spurts of flame. Coiling around and through his mate, Crowley felt his form blur further, leaving the serpentine body behind and becoming a slash of shining darkness around the brightness of the angel as the latter’s form blurred into a ball of light.

The angelic brightness shivered again, welcoming the darkness with the whole of its being.

As they moved against each other, glittering, sparkling, shining with joy at the pleasure of being as close as two forms could possibly get, they could feel parts of their forms giving and receiving elements of the other. Aziraphale was wearing a permanent form of Crowley like a scarf that wrapped around his body. Crowley could feel the sunburst of Aziraphale’s form imprint itself across his back.

Slowly, loathe to leave the complete communion they were sharing, they fell back into their human corporations. The sky around them faded back to the rosy pink-red-orange clouds.

Breathing hard, Aziraphale and Crowley untangled themselves, although they didn’t part completely, keeping connected with a clasp of a hand and the touch of a lip. Finally, their eyes blinked open and they pulled back, staring into each other’s eyes.

“Well.”

“Have you ever…?”

“No.”

Crowley let out a long stream of air. “Did it work the way we want it to, you think?” He traced the snaking form across Aziraphale’s shoulders, like a tattoo in the same colour as his skin, with a delicate finger. The glow emanating from the tattoo dissipated even as he touched it. “Does it hurt?”

“No.” Aziraphale ran his hands over the invisible sunburst that covered Crowley’s back. “It feels like a part of you is with me. In me.”

“That’s what he said.” Crowley waggled his eyebrows.

“Oh, hush.” Aziraphale pressed a quick kiss to his mouth. “As for _if_ it worked… if we exchanged enough essence… Well...” As they talked, the tattoos completely faded from sight, but they could still feel their presence.

“I don’t mind doing it again if you think we need more,” said Crowley, half joking, half serious.

Aziraphale ducked his head shyly. “I’d like to do that whether we need more or not. To be so intimate with you was…”

“Yeah.” Crowley let out another happy sigh and rested his head on his angel’s shoulder. “But not right now. I don’t think I have enough energy to get us back to our world, let alone _that_.”

“Are you ready to go back, love? I think I can manage it. Or do you want to wait here in this anti-gravity space for a bit longer?”

“Just a few more minutes.” Crowley wrapped his wings around them both from above, and Aziraphale mimicked him underneath, enclosing them in a ball of feathers as they rested curled up together.

* * *

14004 BCE [ return to text ]

23004? 2348? BCE [ return to text ]

31700 BCE [ return to text ]

4Each _other_ space was different, otherwise there would be a multitude of wings just hanging out. [ return to text ]

5Although I’ll try to describe it. [ return to text ]


	5. Chapter 5

The next day found them in the Bentley, taking the long way1 to Anathema’s cottage in Tadfield. The day was bright, no rain was in the forecast, and they had a full tartan picnic basket in the back seat. The plan was to stop at a park along the way.

Crowley kept glancing over at the angelic being sitting to his left. He couldn’t stop the fond little smile that kept playing over his lips as he took in Aziraphale’s beaming face. Their hands were clasped on the seat between them as Crowley drove one-handed along the winding highway through Chiltern Hills.

“It’s nearing lunchtime, dearest,” said Aziraphale suddenly, as if he had just spotted the time, although his eyes had not left Crowley’s face since they got in the car.

Giving a little squeeze to the hand in his, Crowley started looking for a way to get off the highway when he saw a sign coming up on his left. “Oh no,” he whispered, horrified.

Instantly, Aziraphale was on the alert. He peered around, trying to figure out what had upset his companion. FInally, his eyes alighted on the sign. “Is that-?”

“I do NOT want to talk about it,” said Crowley, voice clipped and lips tight.

“But dearest, it says it’s _yours_. We have to visit.” Aziraphale put on the biggest puppy dog eyes he could manage.

“It does not. It _says_ _Cowleaze_ Wood Car Park,” sneered Crowley. He pointedly glared at the road in front of him.

“And you’re certain it wasn’t a misunderstanding?” asked Aziraphale not-so-innocently.

“Perfectly,” Crowley snarled.

“Then it wouldn’t bother you if we stopped there for our picnic!” Aziraphale gave a little wiggle of contentment at having won the argument. “There’s the exit, dear.”

Grumbling the whole way, Crowley maneuvered the Bentley off the highway and onto a smaller side street, and finally onto a very narrow tree-lined street. The fields and few houses that they passed by were all very picturesque, although the demon barely noticed through his seething.

“Oh! There it is!” Aziraphale pointed off to their left.

It was a quaint little car park and Crowley pulled into it dutifully. “You really are quite the bastard, you know that, don’t you?”

“Whatever do you mean?” asked Aziraphale, voice muffled as he twisted around to reach for the picnic basket in the back seat.

“You know exactly what I mean,” grumbled Crowley, throwing open his door and striding around the car to get the other door for the angel, who had his hands full. “This place didn’t turn out at all the way I had planned.” He snapped his fingers and the doors closed behind them and locked before the car turned off. “It was a thing in the early 1950s, to _park_ and _neck_ with your sweetheart. All the lust and stuff would go off the charts. After approval from downstairs, I hired contractors and designers to start building.”

Aziraphale offered his free arm to Crowley and, basket over the other arm, they headed off to find a picturesque spot with a free2 picnic table. “Do you think there are any bluebells out at this time of year?” he asked, giving a happy squeeze to the arm linked in his.

“Sure, angel3.” Crowley scowled at some trees that had sparse leaf coverage. “When it came time to name the place, I told the designers they could use whatever name they liked. And they chose to use mine. Sort of.”

“Ah yes. The whole ‘names can’t be written down’ thing.” Aziraphale nodded sympathetically. “It made for a whole new level of complication once the humans wanted names recorded, didn’t it? Insurance, licences… ugh, what a nightmare.”

“Yes, well.” Crowley spotted a patch of wild bluebells and a nearby empty table. “Shall we?”

“What have you brought for us today?” asked Aziraphale, resisting the urge to peek into the basket.

“Oh, you know, wine, cheese, wine, fresh bread, wine…” Crowley teased.

“Pshhh.” Aziraphale seated himself on the edge of the bench, posture perfect as always. “We don’t drink that much wine.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow.

“Not outdoors,” clarified Aziraphale, a slight blush staining his cheeks.

“I love seeing that colour on you,” breathed Crowley, suddenly inches away from Aziraphale’s face as a finger traced a cheekbone.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale gasped, leaning into his touch. His essence was crying out to be entangled with his lover’s. His soul was begging to be together with his other half.

“You feel that?” whispered Crowley, eyes wide. “That tug on your heart? We really _are_ soulmates.”

“I can’t imagine being entwined with anyone else.” Aziraphale gave himself a little shake, blinking as if coming out of a trance. “Come now, I would like to see what you have in the basket.”

“A tisket, a tasket, I shall show you my basket,” sing-songed Crowley, lifting the lid. “Close your eyes and open wide.”

Aziraphale did as he was bid. He didn’t have to wait long before there was a press of something against his bottom lip. He closed his lips over the treat and a bit of Crowley’s fingers, drawing it into his mouth. He bit down, and the juicy flesh of a grape burst on his tongue. He moaned with delight and opened his eyes.

Crowley was practically in Aziraphale’s lap, eyes locked on his mouth.

“Want a taste?” purred Aziraphale.

“Fuck yes,” Crowley groaned. He speared his fingers through soft blond curls and brought them together.

Their distraction was probably the reason that they didn’t notice the new arrivals.

“Ugh, Crawly, just bite his face off and get it over with.”

“Absolutely disgusting.”

Reluctantly, Aziraphale and Crowley separated. Hastur and Sandalphon stood not too far away from their picnic table.

“Excuse me,” said Aziraphale coldly. “I’m busy having a romantic picnic with my…” he trailed off. “What would you like to be called, dearest?” he asked, ignoring the two beings in front of him.

“Partner? Spouse? Spooze.” Crowley chuckled. “Lover? Husband?”

“Husband.” Aziraphale echoed, beaming. “Oh, I like that. How very human. You’re very romantic, you know.”

“Stop it,” Crowley demurred, blushing.

“Come here, love.” Aziraphale drew Crowley back towards him again.

“I don’t have the time, patience, or stomach for this,” growled Hastur.

Crowley tossed a rude gesture over his shoulder at them.

A _fwoosh_ echoed through the air, and suddenly Hellfire consumed the lovers and picnic table.

* * *

1As opposed to through the phone line. [ return to text ]

2There would be a free spot wherever they wanted it, even if there was originally no table at that place. [ return to text ]

3Well, there were _now_ , in season or not. [ return to text ]


	6. Chapter 6

“Oh bother. I liked that basket.” Aziraphale pouted. “We didn’t even get a chance to taste the wine.”

“You think I’d let a bottle of Chateauneuf-du-Pape go to waste, Angel?” asked Crowley. He snapped his fingers and the picnic basket reappeared, unscathed, on the miracled table beside them. “Thank you for not letting us fall on our asses.”

“Shall we continue where we left off then?” Aziraphale smirked.

“Oh, alright.” Kiss-swollen and reddened lips twitched up. “It’s not like we have more pressing matters to attend to right now.”

Hastur spluttered in shock and anger as his Hellfire left both angel and demon without a scratch1.

“Let the professionals show you how it’s done,” said Sandalphon, eyes gleaming maniacally. He conjured up a watering can. “You don’t need more than a drop of Holy Water to vanquish a demon.”

Hastur stepped away nervously.

Sandalphon ignored the demon and waved a hand, levitating the can over the two at the table. “Ignore _this_ , traitors,” he hissed.

“Was it supposed to rain today, Angel?” asked Crowley, tilting his face up into the sprinkling of water.

“I didn’t think so. Would you like me to conjure an umbrella?” Aziraphale wiped some of the Holy Water off Crowley’s face.

“It’s rather refreshing, actually. But it might get the bread wet.”

Aziraphale’s gasp of horror made Crowley laugh and snap his fingers. A bubble of protection surged around the basket and the water slid off it like...something water slides off of2. “There, nothing can get in without our permission.”

“You are a dear,” murmured Aziraphale.

“Only for you,” Crowley replied. “Do you think we’ve made our point and they’ll leave us alone now?”

Aziraphale sighed and glared at the unwelcome visitors. He snapped his fingers and the watering can vanished. “Seen enough? Can we please continue on without these unpleasant interruptions?”

Sandalphon was turning red with rage. “You. Do. Not. Get. To. Disobey. Orders. And. Not. Get. Punished!” he screamed, nearly apoplectic with anger. “DIE, YOU _INSIGNIFICANT_ LITTLE SLUGS!”

“Slugs are actually quite useful to ecosystems,” began Aziraphale, but Crowley cut him off.

“Is it still raining? Oh, nevermind. It’s much grosser than rain.” He blocked the rest of the spittle with an absentminded thought.

Sandalphon clenched his fists in front of his chest and breathed on them. “You can withstand Holy Water. But how about Holy Fire?” His fists started vibrating and glowing with Holy energy.

“Do you think we’ll be okay?” whispered Crowley, his anxiety showing only in the tight grip on Aziraphale’s arm.

“We are stronger together. We can withstand anything.” Aziraphale reassured him. “Did you want to stand?”

“No, I want to be as close to you as possible.” Crowley snuggled down into Aziraphale’s lap, looking, to an outsider, unconcerned about his potential impending demise.

Sandalphon’s shout of triumph as he unleashed a ball of Holy Fire turned into screams, making everyone jump.

Aziraphale and Crowley turned in surprise and watched the Fire fizzle out inches from their faces. They looked past it at Sandalphon, who was writhing on the ground.

“Oh no,” muttered Crowley. “Poor sap.”

“What is happening?” asked Aziraphale, eyes wide. “Is he… Falling?” He could feel the pain of losing his sibling within his heart, and he didn’t need Crowley’s words to know the truth.

“Yeah, he is. First Fall since the big one. Huh.” Crowley scratched at his chin. “I thought I’d feel no sympathy for him if he Fell. Wanker. I guess he can be a jerk and I can pity him anyways. It’s pretty harsh at first. I think he’ll get used to it pretty quickly though. He’s suited to being a demon.”

“The kind like Hastur, though,” mused Aziraphale. “We’ll have to keep an eye on things on Earth, in case he decides to roam around, inciting things.”

Meanwhile, Sandalphon’s wings had burst into reality, the whiteness rotting away into a sickly greenish brown shade. His screams increased in pitch and intensity as he twisted in agony, until finally, everything was silent.

Crowley did a quick check of the humans in the area, but no-one was paying them any mind. “Did you use a little miracle to avoid detection, or did they?” he asked Aziraphale, jerking a finger at the two demons opposing them.

Nodding, Aziraphale said, “A little notice-me-not miracle. I set it up for our area when they first arrived. Just in case.”

Crowley dropped a quick kiss on Aziraphale’s forehead as he stood up to face the demons. “So. We’re immune to Hellfire. Immune to Holy Water. And now an angel has Fallen, and it’s not Aziraphale. When are you going to learn that we are on the right side?”

The demon that was Sandalphon struggled to his feet, panting. He opened his eyes, turning their blank grey stare onto Aziraphale. “ _You_! This is _your fault_!” he screamed before launching himself at the angel.

Aziraphale shuddered in disgust at the rancid breath and rotting teeth left in Sandalphon’s mouth. Only the gold teeth were untouched, he noticed in horrified fascination.

A clap of thunder rent the air as a bolt of lightning hit the ground in front of the new demon, who pulled up short of running into his former boss.

Gabriel turned to face Aziraphale. “I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye, but I am sorry that things have come to this. An angel immune to Hellfire and Holy Water is unnatural, but we will not try to end your life again.” He held up a hand, as if expecting Aziraphale to interrupt him. “I want you to know that Sandalphon was acting entirely on his own without any assistance or knowledge from the other archangels.”

Crowley growled at him. “‘Shut your stupid mouth and die already.’”

“What?” Gabriel asked, startled, acknowledging the demon for the first time.

“‘Shut your stupid mouth and die already.’ That’s what you said to him, before attempting to murder him. No trial. No defence.” Crowley stalked closer, into Gabriel’s face. “You put him down here on Earth to defend and protect the humans. For six thousand years, that’s what he did. And then all of a sudden, you expected him to say ‘oh, jolly good then, I guess I’ll join the army of angels bent on destroying the Earth’? Fuck that. Fuck you,” he spat, before punching the archangel in the face.

“Oh, darling,” cooed Aziraphale, rushing over to Crowley, who was cringing and holding his hand tight to his chest. “Let me see. You poor thing.” A light kiss over each of the broken fingers, and they were as good as new. “That was such a turn on, dearest, defending me like that.”

“Yeah? You wanna…” he waggled his eyebrows and gestured over his shoulder in the direction of the parked Bentley.

Gabriel straightened from his crouch, fixing his broken nose with a thought. “I would like to put all that behind us. We have seen, through Sandalphon’s actions, that we were wrong. We shall endeavour to reach out to God and get new orders about how things should go. The Great Plan was clear to us, but now that the Ineffable Plan is shown to supercede it in all matters, we need to regroup.”

“You need to be taught about morality,” scoffed Crowley, draping an arm around Aziraphale. “Maybe spend some time amongst the humans you are supposed to protect. The fact that I, a demon, understand the humans better than the Archangels of Heaven, is really not a good thing.”

“Oh, don’t sell yourself short, dearest,” said Aziraphale. “You understand and love the humans better than anyone in Heaven _or_ Hell.”

“Yeah, yeah,” muttered Crowley, flushing. “Of course I understand them. All the better to tempt them, am I right?”

“Yes, you’re a big bad demon,” teased Aziraphale.

Gabriel made a face. “This.” He gestured at them. “Is disgusting. You sully your temple with gross matter, and now you… you _fraternize_ with a demon?”

“A great deal more than _fraternizing_ ,” Aziraphale said, cocking an eyebrow. “But I wouldn’t expect _you_ to understand. Nor do I care to explain it to you.”

The new demon seethed. “If we’re all done with this little _chat_ , the traitor and I have something to _discuss_.”

The stench of sulfur and a trembling of the earth preceded the arrival of Beelzebub. “There you are,” ze said to Hastur. Then to the new demon, “Lookz like we have a new recruit. Come with me. You have a lot of training to go through.”

“I claim Aziraphale’s soul for my vengeance!” shrieked not-Sandalphon.

“Nope. Can’t do that.” Crowley lazily lifted a hand. “Aziraphale’s mine.”

Gabriel and Beelzebub blinked at them. “You’ve not zubmitted a contract,” began Beelzebub hesitantly.

“Not that kind of contract. We’re married. He’s my husband.” Crowley grinned at being able to say it out loud.

“Huzband,” repeated Beelzebub flatly.

“Married?” gasped Gabriel.

“Yes, quite.” Aziraphale pulled on his waistcoat. “Now, if you don’t mind, I plan on fulfilling my end of the contract right now. Thoroughly. So please, a promise from both Heaven and Hell that we will be left alone for now and the foreseeable future would be very nice. As a wedding gift.”

“Granted,” gritted Gabriel through a forced smile.

“Interezting choice,” buzzed Beelzebub. “We will no longer interfere with you. Haztur, newbie, come.”

They sank into the Earth, the new demon howling his resistance, as Gabriel vanished upwards alone.

Aziraphale and Crowley stared at the places they had been, shock warring with glee as their new reality sank in.

“We’re finally free!” cheered Crowley.

“Finally together.” Aziraphale agreed. “Shall we?”

“Shall we what?” Crowley flipped open the basket again and began hunting through it, distracted.

Aziraphale gently closed it. “You wouldn’t want to make a liar of me, would you?”

Crowley blinked at the closed basket. “Of course not, but I don’t follow.”

Walking his fingers across the lid towards Crowley’s hand, Aziraphale looked up at him through his eyelashes. “I said I planned on fulfilling my end of the contract immediately.” He gently stroked along Crowley’s fingers. “And thoroughly.”

“Oh,” said Crowley, clearly not comprehending. He stared at the hand stroking his. “OH!” A wicked grin curled along his mouth. “Well, what are you waiting for, then? Seduce away!”

“I thought I already was,” pouted Aziraphale.

“Consider me seduced. We gonna do this here?” Crowley waggled his eyebrows.

Aziraphale looked around, spotting no-one, and shrugged. “I mean, a little notice-me-not miracle and we could.”

“I’m shocked,” said Crowley dryly, clearly anything but. “You’ve never before shown interest in the pleasures of life.”

“Oh stop it, you.” Aziraphale blushed.

“Let’s go find an inn, though. We’re practically at Tadfield. There’s bound to be a place we can go that’ll be a little more comfortable.”

* * *

1Or burn. [ return to text ]

2Is this joke made too often? Doesn’t really matter - I think it’s hilarious. [ return to text ]


	7. Chapter 7

They didn’t make it that far.

After dashing back to the Bentley hand-in-hand, Crowley tore out of the parking spot and zipped along the tree-lined road.

Aziraphale started tracing nonsensical patterns over Crowley’s hand on the stick shift, eliciting shudders from the demon. After a couple minutes of that, he moved on to Crowley’s knee. And then higher.

“Angel,” gasped Crowley. “If you keep doing that, we’re not going to make it to Tadfield.”

“Oh good,” purred Aziraphale. He snapped his fingers and Crowley’s jeans disappeared. “Be a dear and find a place to stop?”

“Fuck!” Crowley ground out between his teeth. He looked frantically around, but the narrow road didn’t offer anywhere. He snapped and a space just large enough for the Bentley appeared at the side of the road. He pulled into it with more luck than grace, as Aziraphale had bent over and was licking and biting along his thigh and hip.

“Do you want to give me something to play with this time?” asked Aziraphale coyly.

Crowley thought for a second1 and his body shifted. His seat moved back2 and Aziraphale settled between his spread legs.

“Oh, that’s lovely,” Aziraphale cooed. “You’re so beautiful.”

Crowley flushed and made embarrassed noises while Aziraphale gazed adoringly at him. “Get on with it, then!” he grumbled, looking out the side window and acting nonchalant.

“As you wish,” whispered Aziraphale. He licked his lips and bent to mouth at his lover.

Crowley whined and threw his head back, thrusting forward to get Aziraphale’s mouth where he wanted it. His hands curled into fluffy white hair as he loosely guided the angel. Wet sounds filled the air and Crowley grimaced. “I’m going to have to deal with a puddle of drool on my upholstery, aren’t I?”

Aziraphale looked up at him, eyebrow cocked. He snapped and a fluffy towel appeared under Crowley’s ass. “Better?”

“Much.”

“I’m obviously not doing my job right if you’re capable of thinking.” Aziraphale huffed. “Who knew you’d be so fussy about sex in your car.”

“It’s the Bentley!” retorted Crowley. “I’ve had her since new! Not a scratch- oh _fuck_!”

Rather than argue, Aziraphale had decided the best way to shut him up was to continue. He hummed as Crowley’s hands wound their way through his hair again, giving little tugs as the pleasure overwhelmed him.

“Yes, yes, yessssssssss,” Crowley chanted softly to the roof of the Bentley. Eyes closed and hips shifting slightly, he chased his pleasure under Aziraphale’s talented mouth. “Oh fuck, Angel, I’m going to cum! Going to… gonna… ssssssssshhhhhhhhhiiiiiiiiit!” Shuddering apart in the driver’s seat, Crowley released a shaky breath. “Go-!, Sa-!, Somebody-!”

“ _Tsk tsk_ , my dear. Have you forgotten my name already?” Aziraphale pressed a kiss to the inside of Crowley’s thigh, avoiding the sensitive areas.

“I’ve forgotten my own name. My brain has bled out of my ears.” Crowley relaxed on the seat. “Fuck, Angel. The things you do with your mouth are indecent. I’ll never be able to watch you eat again.”

“Oh, that is disappointing. I was hoping to tempt you to dinner tonight.”

“Dinner.” Crowley stared at Aziraphale.

“Yes, I was thinking maybe chicken?”

“Aziraphale. Angel. If you don’t let me have sex with you this instant, I will…” Crowley cast about for a good enough threat. “I will never take you to the Ritz again.”

“That would be a shame. I suppose I’ll put up with it.”

“It’s no fun without enthusiastic consent.” Crowley lifted his hand to snap his jeans back on.

“NO!” Aziraphale, horrified, batted at his raised hand. “I’m just teasing. Please, yes, now?”

“Much better,” purred Crowley, bringing Aziraphale to straddle his lap. Smoothing a hand over Aziraphale’s trousers, they disappeared with a blink. “Are you ready for more?”

“Oh yes, my love.”

After some shuffling and reconfiguring, they settled on a position that worked well for them both.

“Darling,” breathed Aziraphale, stilling for a moment to take in the feeling. He turned his head slightly and pressed a kiss to Crowley’s tattoo, just in front of his ear.

A shiver travelled through Crowley’s body. “Oh _fuck_.”

“Good or bad?”

“Good. Very good, Angel. Again?”

“As many times as you need.”

Slowly their bodies moved together, the other’s pleasure bringing them both higher in a neverending feedback loop.

“Feels so good,” gasped Aziraphale. “Crowley!”

“Yessssss, Angel! Just like that…” Crowley whined as Aziraphale licked over his snake tattoo again. “Fuck, that’s so sensitive.” He dug his fingers into Aziraphale’s shoulders, where the invisible tattoo of his own soul marked the angel as his, making him arch.

“Ohhhh, yes, darling.” Aziraphale scratched down Crowley’s back over the sunburst of his soul. “So close, dearest!”

Together, they flew3 off the peak of their pleasure, holding each other tightly.

For the next few minutes, all that could be heard within the Bentley was harsh breathing.

 **_Ooooh, good old-fashioned loverboy!_ ** blared the speakers of the car.

“Oi, knock it off!” rasped Crowley. “Smug bastard car.”

Aziraphale giggled.

* * *

1It took a great deal of effort to focus. [ return to text ]

2Or the space at his feet elongated. [ return to text ]

3Metaphorically, of course. [ return to text ]


	8. Epilogue

A rather incessant ringing cut through a cottage in the South Downs. Crowley raised his eyebrows and answered his cell. “Book girl.”

“Crowley!” Anathema’s voice sounded relieved.

“What’s wrong? Another angel show up at your cottage?” Crowley got ready to leap through the phone line. Afterwards, he would deny this vehemently.

“I went to London, to Soho, to visit Aziraphale at his bookshop…” Anathema hesitated. “Is he with you?”

Crowley relaxed and laughed, carefree. “Hang on.” He put his phone on speaker and walked into the library. “Hey Angel? I guess we forgot something.”

“Forgot something,” echoed Anathema, her eyeroll practically visible through the audio connection. “Understatement.”

“Oh! Oh dear.” Aziraphale closed his book carefully. “I’m so sorry, dear girl. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“It’s been six months.” She sighed. “I take it you figured out how to protect each other permanently?”

Aziraphale beamed up at his demon. “We did.”

“I’m so glad.” Her undisguised relief was palpable. “However, you both owe me for scaring the living daylights out of me. Your bookshop is gone, and no word from either of you for so long? I thought the worst had happened!”

“Two favours from a demon and one from an angel,” chuckled Crowley. “Book girl, you are one of a kind.”

“What sort of favour?” asked Aziraphale, curious.

Silence echoed down the line.

“Book girl?” Crowley grew concerned.

“How do you feel about blessing a baby?”


End file.
